


Clint Eastwood

by HeylelAndGoldenWings



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Alcoholism, Angst and Fluff, Fluff, Happy Ending, Loosely based off Clint Eastwood by Gorillaz, M/M, Not CACW Compliant, Running, Sad!Tony, Sort Of, Weed, he’s sort of a stoner, mentions of scars, mentions of self harm, not AOU compliant, not catws compliant, stoner!Tony, there is some punching of walls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 07:28:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18889981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeylelAndGoldenWings/pseuds/HeylelAndGoldenWings
Summary: Tony Stark is happy. The happiest, richest, smartest man in the world. And he’s glad.





	Clint Eastwood

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t proof read all of it, so sorry for any errors!

For the longest time, Tony had wondered what the big deal was. It wasn’t like he didn’t believe it— there was proof, of some form or another, that it helped.  But…

 

He lets out a wheezy breath as he stumbles to a stop. It’s fulfilling, Sure. It leaves him with a sense of satisfaction, but doesn’t… it doesn’t make him feel better.

 

The rest of the team does it. Steve, mostly. Says it clears his mind. Tony doesn’t understand that- when he’s running his mind sure has thoughts. Maybe they’re less jumbled and all-over-the-place, but they’re still there. Anything to will him to run longer and ignore the pain in his side.

 

He still does it every night, anyway. It doesn’t stop him, when he decides to find other coping mechanisms— he never tells anyone about those. When someone asks him about his exercise, he’ll say it’s nice. When someone asks him about his alcohol, he’ll smile and lie and say, “only once in a while.”  Nobody asks him about his scars. They don’t need to know. Fresh or old, he’ll never tell them.

 

Tony presses the stop button, and hops off the treadmill.  It’s raining outside, but it seems like everyone made plans without Tony. He doesn’t mind, exactly. It’s nice to have the tower to himself, again. After so long.

 

It’s weird when Steve walks up to him, an hour later. All smiles and touchy hands and bright eyes. Weird.

 

“Tony,” Steve says, grinning widely. “You wanna join the rest of us for dinner then a movie? We were thinking of seeing The Revengers. It’s supposed-“

 

“I know what it is,” Tony interrupts. Stupid parody. It looks funny enough. “Yeah, sure. When?”  He glances at the clock- it’s already five. Huh.

 

Steve must see the concerned look on his face, because he places a hand on Tony’s shoulder and announces, “no worries, we aren’t going out to eat until 6:30.”  Tony pulls away hesitantly, and waves goodbye as he leaves to shower and find a nice suit.

 

***

 

Tony sits across from Natasha. She’s staring at him- which is okay. She always does that, actually. So it’s fine.

 

He swallows nervously, then scoots unwillingly toward Bruce, who’s seated beside him. Bruce casts him a tiny little smile and pats his hand. Tony turns back to Natasha.

 

“So,” she drawls. “You’ve been in your workshop for two days straight.”  The rest of the table nods their worry.

 

Tony blinks in surprise- he had gone down to fix something on the suit, but he must have gotten carried away. That wasn’t a big deal, really.

 

“Oh, sorry,” he finally apologizes. “I fixed some things. And ran.”

 

“Ran?” Steve asks. He hopes they believe him, the rest of the team- but he knows they might not. Then, Steve adds, “that’s real great, Tony. I hope it’s enjoyable.”

 

They don’t talk much for the rest of the night.

 

***

 

Tony thinks it was easier when they weren’t friends. The stone cold silence wasn’t welcome, exactly… but it gave him excuses to do bad things without feeling guilty.

 

They had always been a team, but friends- that was too much, sometimes, for Tony. Teammates meant friendly on the field, quiet off of it. Friends meant-

 

Expectations and meaningful fights and hiding away in the workshop to avoid disapproving gazes and scornful words.

 

Tony rubs his eyes furiously. His music is loud, and he can feel a migraine coming on. He taps his fingernails against the whisky bottle that rests half-full on his desk. Somewhere, deep in his mind, he registers he probably should he dead.

 

He passes out, and wakes up in his bed that morning. He tells himself he must have gotten there himself, but the tiny voice in his mind tells him otherwise.

 

Steve and Tony were never meant to be friends. Teammates, but not friends.

 

***

 

Tony doesn’t like acknowledging the fact that Steve prefers Howard over him. Tony understands, partly, why. Howard made Steve who he is, in a sense, but-

 

Howard… God. Tony can’t help but hate that man, sometimes. He was hard and pushy and all the things Tony never wants to be.

 

It’s subtle, the way Steve brings it up. Always, “Howard would do...” or “Howard once told me…”

 

Tony can’t help the stricken look from crossing his face every time he’s mentioned. He flinches. Scrunches his nose in distaste. Then straighten back up, and smiles.  Says something detachedly.

 

He just ignores it. He could try to improve himself for Steve, but the truth is, he doesn’t want to. Not if it means acting like Howard.

 

Tony wonders if the Howard Steve knew was different than the Howard he knew.

 

It doesn’t make a difference, in the end.  Never really mattered.

 

***

 

The nightmares never stop.

 

Tony supposes he’s more like Steve than he cares to admit; when he wakes up sweaty and shivering in the middle of the night, instead of curling into a ball of his own self-pity, like he used to do, he sits until his panic attack dissipates. Then he gets up and runs.

 

One day, Steve joins him. It’s smack in the middle of summer, and just as equally smack in the middle of the night. Still, when Tony steps out of the tower he’s hit with a wave of heat, then a puff of wind. He glances over to see Steve staring off into the distance, like he’s from some melodramatic movie.  Tony has to hold in a laugh.

 

He watches Steve for a moment, debating if he should make his presence known.  Finally, he grumbles, “You wanna join me for a run, Cap?”

 

Steve huffs, but doesn’t look surprised.  “Sure, Tony.” The two of them set off at a brisk pace; they don’t talk, and it’s a calming contrast against the chaos of his nightmares.  

 

“You ever been high?”

 

Tony almost doesn’t believe it’s Steve who asked- why would Steve want to know? “Yeah,” he says casually. “Got a stash of weed.”

 

Steve snorts. “Should’ve known you’d be a stoner.”

 

“Ah, not really,” Tony denies. “Not exactly.”

 

They fall back to silence.

 

***

 

Tony falls onto the floor of the living room. He doesn’t want to deal with the rest of the Avengers, but JARVIS has warned him they’d be coming right about-

 

Now.

 

Clint stares down at him, and kicks his side gently. “Get up, loser. We’re watching Sherlock.”

 

Soon they’re all huddled up on the couch, Natasha pressed right up against Clint, Bruce practically asleep on Steve.  Tony sits in the chair, and watches through calculated eyes. He stopped paying attention to the movie minutes ago, and had started staring at Steve.

 

Steve pulls away from Bruce and stands, stretching.  “I’m gonna go call for pizza,” he offers easily. Tony jumps up too quickly.

 

“We should go to the little Italian place down the street.  It tastes better than takeout; we can wait for the pizza and then take it back to the tower.”

 

The rest, except Bruce, nod in agreement.  Tony and Steve walk out together, but…

 

***

 

It happens so quickly.  One second they’re chatting it up, making their way down to the pizzeria, and then the next Tony is being thrown across the street by something big and angry.  

 

He should have known. Nothing ever goes right for the Avengers. He calls for his suit, and it’s on him fast enough, but his arm is already twisted at an awful, unnatural angle, so- too late. It’s too late.

 

He charges in, offering air support; he wishes bitterly that Thor was here, to help.

 

Steve fights skillfully from the ground.  

 

Eventually they win, but not until the others show up.

 

***

 

Steve is making him stay in bed. Being bed-ridden is terribly boring, Tony decides, as he clicks through more lame TV shows.

 

He doesn’t have anyone to talk to, except JARVIS- which never bothered him before, but back then he had a choice. Everyone else is out living their lives, while he’s stuck here.

 

Deciding following directions never gets him anywhere, Tony stands. Pain shoots through his arm, but he ignores it and shuffles to the kitchen. Surely Steve won’t care if he gets some nutrients in him.

 

He jumps when someone clears their throat from behind him. “Excuse me. You’re supposed to be resting,” Steve accuses.

 

Tony groans, then. “I want fruit.”

 

“I’ll cut you up a kiwi,” Steve offers, and leads Tony to the table, forcing him to sit.

 

“What am I, five?” Tony grumbles.

 

Turns out, when your arm is broken, everyone treats you like it, whether you are or aren’t.

 

***

 

In hindsight, Tony knew it was going to happen. Really. He always knew, he just- just didn’t want to accept it, accept that part of it. It was easier to hide away, hide in his workshop or run with Steve or get high with Clint.

 

Dying is breathless. It’s easy, and calm, and not as scary as he thought it would be. The darkness wraps around him, and he remembers- he remembers Steve, mostly, in those last moments. He remembers Steve’s smile and pretty eyes and soft voice.

 

It’s a- not exactly-welcome surprise when Tony wakes up. And, God, isn’t he supposed to be dead? He could have sworn-

 

But no, Steve is asleep beside him. “Absolutely not,” Tony says loudly, and Steve twitches awake. “You’re not allowed to die. If I’m dead, and you’re here dead with me, that simply cannot do. You have to go back, O Captain, My Captain. The team-“

 

Steve claps a hand over Tony’s mouth. “We were so worried,” he grinds out, and the hand falls from Tony’s mouth, to his hand. Steve grasps it shakily, and Tony sees stars. Death is cruel. Life would never trick him like this-

 

“Ah, yes,” Tony agrees. “Okay, so I am dead.”

 

Steve looks hurt. Tony frowns, and reaches up with his free hand to stroke Steve’s face. It feels right. Stupid, maybe, but right. “No, stop that. Don’t take that seriously. I’m alive, then? I could have sworn I was dead.”

 

“You passed out, Sir,” JARVIS answers easily. “It was very bad, though. You are stable now.”

 

Steve lets out a breath Tony assumes he’s been holding for a while now. “Woah, okay. Cool. Cap, when we get back to the tower, can we get pizza? I never got my pizza that one night, y’know? When that big yellow thing attacked? But now Thor is back, it’ll be like family bonding, or some shit-“

 

Steve grins at Tony and he tries to ignore the tears that roll down Steve’s cheeks. Has to resist the urge to wipe them away.  “I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Tony chirps, and makes a few kissy noises at Steve. “You know me so well. Wow, I’ll be damned.”

 

***

 

It’s a pain in his ass. Crushing on Captain America. Real pain, if you ask him.

 

He cries himself to sleep. That isn’t something he does often. It’s painful, and his heart hurts, and he wishes- he wishes Steve would just… fuck.

 

So Tony looks for whatever distractions he can get- one of the firsts includes having a chittering contest with an angry squirrel. Not fun.  It ends with a twig being thrown at him; squirrels are incredibly nasty creatures.

 

The next involves alcohol, and in the days after that, he gets high. Spends his days in a weed-induced state. It’s really not a terrible way to live.

 

When the fun of smoking weed wears off, he runs again. Every day, like before, but now for hours at a time- maybe he’s running away. It’s a nice escape, and not an unhealthy one, except after he’s done he doesn’t bother drinking water and his blood sugar is always dangerously low.

 

As usual, it isn’t a big deal until Cap makes it a big deal. Tony is minding his own business, running on his treadmill. He has science-y things to finish, but right now the running is top priority. He’s lost five pounds, thank you very much.

 

Steve walks in, all smiles and sharp eyes. “Tony, JARVIS let me in. Can we talk?”

 

Tony slams to a stop, grinning easily. Steve’s smile falters, and Tony momentarily wonder what he’s done wrong, then, oh-

 

“Are you high?”

 

“Hmm,” Tony hums, shrugging. “Last of my weed. Wanted to finish it off.”’ He points to his desk. “You want some? There’s just enough left.”

 

Steve sends him a disapproving glance. Of course. Stupid conservative asshole. Can’t handle weed. “At least I’m not smoking cigarettes,” Tony snaps, because, hey, it’s true. “That was a big deal back in the day, right? Well, that’s like, twice as bad-“

 

“It’s fine,” Steve says shortly. “I knew you had a stash. You told me the one night. I just want to know you’re being safe.”

 

“Hunky Dory, Stevie, thanks for the concern. What can I do for you?”

 

“I’ve been worried, actually.”

 

“Is that so?” Tony pats Steve’s hand. “I’ve been runnin’ a lot.  You do that, I know it, so, really, there’s nothing to worry about.”

 

“You bought a lot of Gucci slides,” Steve mumbles. “That’s- odd,” he offers, a tiny smile coming to his lips.

 

“Oh, no biggie,” Tony promises, and waves a hand. “Donating them to charities. God, I love it when poor people flex on the middle class. It’s my favorite.”

 

Steve clears his throat, and raises an eyebrow.

 

“You can have a pair, or two,” Tony adds. “But I really should start running again, sorry.”

 

Steve frowns, and leaves.

 

***

 

Tony stares at Natasha through the corner of his eye. She’s shaking; silent, little trembles course throughout her body.

 

He understands, in part, not wanting to deal with emotions and the works. He gets that. But- really, she should just let it out. That can’t be healthy.

 

Tony sighs, hesitating. He’s never seen her like this before.  She’s always so good. Tony prides himself in that, too. Being good at hiding emotions is a skill not all have. But nobody is better at that then Natasha.

 

“Hey,” he says softly, and sinks into the seat beside her on the couch. “We’ll find him.  For you. For Steve.”

 

Natasha reaches out to grip Tony’s hand. “The Winter Soldier,” she whispers, pained. “Bucky Barnes. Steve Rogers’ best friend.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony murmurs. “Him. Don’t worry. I’ll help look. Always.”

 

“Always,” Natasha agrees.

 

***

 

Steve clears his throat. Tony groans- he can’t afford to be interrupted right now. He’s just barely made a breakthrough, and-

 

“Stop,” Steve snaps, voice harsh. “Stop it, Tony. We’re never going to find him.”

 

Tony scowls. This is not what he intended- he hates pissing Steve off. He just wants to help, and… he knows Steve wants to find Bucky, knows clear as day.  He can’t just stop.

 

“Stop it,” Steve repeats, a little more sadly this time. “Come up for a run. Get some fresh air.”  

 

Tony hesitates, before the guilt tugs at his stomach again. He stands- Steve won’t stop until Tony gets up.  And besides, he hasn’t run in a while- as little as he wants to admit it, a run might do him some good…

 

“Fine,” he agrees, and follows Steve out of the workshop. He can hear rain pattering on the roof.  Huh. “You don’t like running in the rain,” Tony accuses half-heartedly.

 

“Today I do,” Steve murmurs. His voice is so tiny, and Tony can’t fucking take it. Captain America isn’t supposed to be sad.

 

Steve Rogers shouldn’t have to be, either.

 

Tony steps forward, as if on autopilot, and wraps Steve in a hug. Steve lets out a weak gasp, and Tony sighs softly. “I know you don’t really want me to stop. But if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll come up for air more often.”  

 

Steve nods against him.

 

***

 

Tony hates coming up for air. It’s the worst thing he can be doing, when Bucky Barnes is so close.  _ The worst.  _

 

If Steve would just  _ relax,  _ it could happen. Tony could find Bucky, and everything could go on like it had before, just with a new presence in the tower. 

 

Tony’s eyes flutter shut, and a tear slips past them. 

 

He’s so fucking tired. Coming up for air does not consist of  _ sleeping.  _ It just means going for a run, maybe eating a meal, if Steve is in the mood to force him to do it, and then scampering on back to the workshop.

 

Sleep doesn’t ever come; and when it does (when he’s so tired that he falls asleep on  _ accident)  _ the nightmares are worse than ever. 

 

Always that night. Always the night his parents died. 

 

He should have  _ known.  _

 

***

 

Tony slams his fist against the wall.

 

_ “Tony, I have to tell you something.” _

 

“Fuck!” Tony snarls, as pain shoots up his arm.

 

_ “Go on, Cap.” _

 

He clenches his mouth shut tight in attempt to keep in a shout.  

 

_ “The Winter Soldier killed your parents, Tony.” _

 

Tony falls back onto his chair and burrows his face in his hands. One is bleeding obnoxiously, and he grimaces as the blood oozes down onto his jeans. 

 

“God  _ fucking  _ dammit.”  Tony takes a few seconds to regroup, then stands. “JARVIS. The armor.”  He’s going to find the Winter Soldier, and he’s going to  _ kill him. _  “I’m bringing Bucky Barnes back.”

 

***

 

It takes a week. A week before Tony is standing face to face with the man who killed his parents. 

 

“James Buchanan Barnes,” Tony breathes, and something in the Soldier snaps. His shoulders sag, and he looks very, very  _ tired.  _

 

“That’s what everyone’s been telling me.”

 

Tony thinks about this for a moment.  He weighs his options. “You killed my mom,” Tony finally growls, and, against his better judgment, punches Bucky in the face. 

 

The Soldier ( _ man? boy?)  _ just blinks, but makes no action to hurt Tony. “I’m sorry.”  His voice is too soft, too weak, too small. 

 

Tony nods once, sharply. “I’m here to take you back to my tower.  Steve wants you to come back.” 

 

Bucky doesn’t look frustrated, just utterly drained, but Tony can see the way he winces at Steve’s name.

 

“C’mon, Soldier, I’ve been missing for a  _ week.  _ It’s about time I get back, before someone has a heart attack.”

 

Bucky comes back with him. 

 

***

 

Tony hides away in his workshop, after that. Refuses to see Steve. Refuses to see Bucky. 

 

Natasha brings him lunch.  She’s always so nice to him, and Tony hates every second of it. He misses the playful banter; now all that’s there is pity. 

 

One day, almost exactly a month after Tony brings Bucky back, Natasha comes stomping down the stairs, Bucky in tow. 

 

“Fix his arm, Tony.”

 

Tony nods; as much as he doesn’t want to see Bucky, he’s not  _ awful.  _ He takes the measurements, and promises Bucky the new arm will be ready by tomorrow.

 

“Steve misses you,” Bucky whispers before he leaves. “It’s killin’ him, Mr. Stark.”

 

“Tony,” Tony corrects, with a tiny smile. “It’s Tony.  Only Peter calls me Mr. Stark, nowadays.”

 

Bucky looks like he wants to say more, but turns to leave instead. 

 

***

 

Tony knocks on Steve’s door hesitantly. It’s been at least a month and a half since they last talked.

 

_ Tony, I have to tell you something. _

 

He can hear something clatter to the ground, and then Steve cursing loudly, and then pattering footsteps as the Captain runs to the door. 

 

Tony can’t help but smile in amusement. 

 

_ Tony, I have to tell you something.  _

 

He shakes his thoughts away: he’s here to make amends, not worry about the past.

 

The door creaks open; Steve’s mouth falls open. “Tony!”

 

“Steve,” Tony greets, and welcomes himself in. “Thank you.”

 

“Pardon?”  Steve asks, terribly confused.  

 

“Thank you for telling me,” Tony continues, and slides up to Steve. He knows they’re too close. He can feel it. 

 

Steve blushes. “Tony, what else would I have done?” 

 

Tony waves a hand in the air, shrugging.  “I have no idea,” he admits. “But it’s best that you told me. I’m sorry I didn’t take it so well.”

 

“No, that’s okay,” Steve quickly answers. “I probably wouldn’t have handled it much better myself.”  He pauses. “I was just making dinner, do you want to join?”

 

Tony beams. Fuck,  _ he loves Steve Rogers.  _

 

Things aren’t bad between them after that dinner.

 

***

 

It’s storming when it happens. The rest of the team, including Bucky, are out celebrating the Fourth of July.  _ It’s storming.  _

 

“Some Fourth, huh?” Tony asks, and plops onto the couch beside Steve. 

 

There’s a slight nod of agreement, and then-  

 

“It’s my birthday. And I’m going to give myself a birthday present.”

 

“Oh, uh, okay,” Tony answers. “That’s really nice, Cap. Self-care n shit.”

 

Steve grabs Tony’s shirt and yanks him into a kiss. 

 

It’s a  _ really  _ good night. 

 

***

 

Tony wouldn’t have it any other way, he decides, as he watches the team.  He’s leaning against a doorframe, a huge grin on his face: everyone is deep in a game of Mario Kart. Bucky is in the lead, Thor close behind him. 

 

It’s so domestic.   _ Perfect.  _

 

Steve slides up behind him, and pulls him into a long kiss. 

 

_ Perfect.  _

 

Tony realizes, then, for the first time in a long time, he’s  _ happy.  _ And so, so, grateful for all of this. Whoever said money can’t buy you happiness was right, it turns out. 

 

Because this happiness? Money had nothing to do with it. 

 

Tony kisses Steve again. 

 


End file.
